stained
by mistressfyre
Summary: Lucius Malfoy has second thoughts about his service to the Dark Lord (rated R for language and violent imagery) *Please do NOT flame!*


I inhaled sharply, the frozen midnight atmosphere slicing into my lungs like a blade. It was finished. It was all finished. For now. I retreated into the kitchen to cleanse my hands of the Muggle blood that stained them. Filth, I muttered, scrubbing each digit until the skin began to peel. Pure once more. Very slowly, I popped my knuckles, absorbing the sickening crunch of each restless joint. I was becoming too cynical for this. "Let him do his own damn dirty work," I grumbled to myself. I hurled my cloak at the floor, no longer caring whether the lush velvet garment got damaged.  
"Worthless...worthless crap," I muttered spitefully. The profit of shady deception and underhanded dealings. Hideous in all its resplendent beauty. Enough to make even a Slytherin sick to his stomach. I had no use for it.  
Not anymore, anyway  
My eyes scoured the parlor of our manor, wondering offhandedly if any of the material wealth Id acquired was not stained with the blood of my inferiors. Tainted gold. Judas's blood money. I suppose that branded me a traitor  
My mind wandering, I carefully examined the ornate silver timepiece poised on the mantle. Very beautiful. Worth a few hundred galleons, at least. Pocket change. I hurled it at the floor, watching it explode into tiny shards of glass and silver. My lips turned up in a quirky sort of half- smile. I nodded in approval.  
At that moment, my reverie was broken by a melodic voice calling my name ever so softly. My wife. Figured. No doubt the crash woke her. She floated into the room on nimble little feet, the white nightdress that adorned her slender frame creating an angelic appearance. An ice angel, perhaps.  
"What are you doing awake at the hour?" she inquired softly in her usual unsympathetic tone. The mother-fucking queen of heart. I shrugged.  
"Working," I replied tersely, turning to examine the damage Id done.  
  
"Oh...Lucius, is there something wrong?" Her tone changed suddenly. She actually sounded as if she cared. Such a glorious little actress.  
"Of course not," I fingered a fragment of the demolished timepiece, snickering softly as a drop of blood leaked from my finger. No matter how hard I tried to keep my hands clean...  
"You're having second thoughts about it, aren't you? About serving Him?"  
I looked up at her, amazed. Amazed at how she could so quickly put a name to something Id been feeling for so long. Perhaps she really was my soulmate.  
"Yes," I stated plainly, letting the shard of glass fall to the floor, stained with blood.  
I searched the luminous blue orbs of her eyes, expecting to find a solemn understanding. I was met with a heckling sneer.  
"So you're finally human," she mused, her tone icy. "I was beginning to wonder..."  
I was astonished. "Then, you think I should leave?"  
"The choice is yours," she replied nonchalantly, as though we were discussing nothing more significant than the weather. "Fear always has gotten the better of you."  
My head snapped up abruptly. "What is that supposed to mean?"  
"I should've known you'd never make it as a Death Eater. What are you so terrified of? Afraid you might actually feel something?"  
The harshness of her words sliced through me.  
"I am not afraid," I whispered, rounding on her. I wanted to strangle her, to smack the arrogant smirk off her face. I wanted to rip out her throat with my bare hands, to ravage her entirely and then curse her into a thousand frozen pieces. The angel of ice. It took all the strength I possessed to restrain myself. I had long forgotten the sliver of remorse I felt at what I had become. I had nothing in Hells name to feel guilty about. I was merely aiding the worlds most powerful wizard in purifying the world of those unfit to walk upon it. I was doing the wizarding world a goddamned favor. To hell with them if they didn't appreciate it.  
"Go back to bed," I whispered dangerously, my face an inch from hers. "I'll not join you."  
With those words I left her, standing amid the shattered glass and silver, staring at me as though I were Voldemort himself. I left the manor, slamming the parlour door behind me. Damn her. She was wrong. I had absolutely nothing to fear. She was wrong. Damn her...  
I yanked the inky black mask of a Death Eater over my face, shielding it from the night. A wave of nausea passed over me. I stalked out into the darkness, seeking more blood with which to stain my hands. 


End file.
